


Story Crashing

by Avrina



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate happenings, Dragons, F/M, Knights - Freeform, Princes & Princesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23785864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avrina/pseuds/Avrina
Summary: Story crashing: a happening which ends a normally long story right at the beginning.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 1





	1. Rumors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LurKingFisher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LurKingFisher/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Witches of Darkmoore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21080342) by [Avrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avrina/pseuds/Avrina). 



"I hear you specialize in rescuing young ladies?" Unasked, a young man dropped down on the chair opposite Sam. He wore his left arm bandaged in a noose and his face looked as if it had only recently been badly beaten up.  
"More or less. Why?" Sam replied slowly and cautiously. Although all the insignia and the like that could reveal who he was were well hidden in his luggage, a little caution couldn't hurt.  
"There are bandits on the way." The man sniffed and made a face, apparently his nose wasn't that bulbous by nature. "Here in the border area. Kidnapped and killed the daughter of a lord two weeks ago when he didn't pay fast enough." He sniffed again, made some disgusting noises and then spat bloody snot and slime on Isaac's empty plate.  
"Urgh," Isaac made into his beer and Sam frowned discontentedly.  
"And?"  
"They say Princess Romy was kidnapped."  
"Romy?" Irritated, Sam raised a brow and lowered his beer mug again. He thought he knew pretty much every princess, at least by name, but this was new to him. The man grinned crooked and exposed a nice gap in his teeth.  
"Princess Romy Blackwood of Darkmoore."  
"Ah," Sam made. Well, Darkmoore was a matter of its own.  
"But they still argue about whether it was the bandits or the dragon."  
"Not again," Isaac sighed, but Sam silenced him with a wave of his hand.  
"Bandits or a dragon, ah, yeah. Didn't you say the bandits demanded a ransom?"  
"They did, from the lord." The man nodded. "But the princess has disappeared and no one knows anything for sure." He sniffed again. "And at the moment only these mangy bandits or the dragon come to mind."  
"Ah, yeah..." Sam made again. "Thanks for the information, my friend."  
The man nodded and grinned crookedly. "Would take care of it myself, but well..."  
Sam nodded wordlessly and kept his thoughts for himself, but then waved in the waitress and offered the guy a beer.

"Bandits? Not a problem. Dragons? Okay. But Darkmoore? Please, Sam, tell me you're not so desperate to go to Darkmoore." Isaac began to moan as soon as the door behind him had closed.  
"Darkmoore is a kingdom like any other," Sam gave back and began to change for the night.  
"No, it's not," Isaac contradicted. When Sam looked up, Isaac stood there with his arms crossed and seemed unable to decide whether he should be angry or anxious.  
"Darkmoore is matriarchal, okay, but-"  
"Those are witches, Sam!"  
"You don't know for sure."  
"Because Darkmoore seals itself off."  
"Darkmoore _was_ sealed off when the swamp fever raged for the last time."  
"And since then, no queen has officially asked to be reinstated on the King's Council."  
"Since when are you so historically educated, Isaac?"  
"The point is that every child knows that the Queen of Darkmoore is a witch. And her daughters, too, most likely."  
"Those are rumors."  
"And rumors have a true core."  
"Yes, Darkmoore has a queen."  
Isaac growled, resignedly threw his hands into the air and turned away.  
Sam sighed and went to bed.  
Maybe he wasn't desperate yet, but he was frustrated. He missed his family and home, had missed the weddings of his two sisters and was getting sick and tired of the eternal wandering through the countryside. And besides the general frustration he was also sexually frustrated. As a prince, he had been trained as a knight, with all the associated virtues, which to the level that virginity was recommended not only for young women, but also for young men, put one on top. He had been looking forward to leaving the capital, but the disillusionment followed quickly. Young knights were coquetted and flirted with, they were pined on - but nothing more. Well, and for whores he was too much ashamed.

Sam sighed and turned around, Isaac grumbled in the background. He turned around again.  
Isaac was right. Darkmoore had always been standing a step aside the other countries and since the last swamp fever it only had gotten worse. The Blackwoods were from the old blood, but no one could tell if they still were witches or not. The frontiers weren’t closed, but well… there were rumors and stories, spread by frightened merchants.  
Sam sighed again and buried the face in the pillow. Was he frustrated enough to put rumors aside just to follow another rumor? Honestly no. From Owlgrove they could go back to Whitehill, visiting Ginevra and her husband Gavin in Threehills on the way. Maybe at their court he met a young lady, if not… well, some lords in Whitehill had for sure one or the other daughter free to marry.  
“Isaac?”  
“Hmm?”  
“I think we should pay Ginevra a visit in her new home.”  
“No Darkmoore?”  
“No.”  
“Good…” Isaac yawned. “Maybe prince Gavin has a pretty cousin…”  
Sam had to yawn as well. “Hmm… we’ll see… tomorrow…”


	2. Dragon fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another possibility...

Sam took a deep breath, licked his lips and then moved again. Irritatingly, it smelled like herbal tea and sweet fruit next to moist soil, but the thought slipped out of Sam's mind again when the dragon's almost endless monologue was interrupted by a slightly annoyed female voice:  
"That's all well and good, but I still don't see why I should help you with any of it."  
The dragon snorted, Sam whispered "Now!" and made a quick movement. The dragon, whose scales looked dirty grey in the light of a lantern (where did the dragon get a lantern and why did he even have one at all?), turned to him and tilted his head. He was taller than Hector, but this was mainly because he had a long neck and a long tail, as usual with dragons.  
"Surrender, beast," Sam said in his best command tone and threateningly raised the sword. In response, the dragon spread his wings in a threatening gesture and hissed. Sam took a step forward.  
"Surrender," he repeated, quieter, more threatening.  
"Never," the dragon rumbled and his head flashed forward. Sam slammed his shield against his chin from diagonally below and turned a little to the side to follow with the sword, but the tip just grazed the scales. In return he got a thrust with a wing, stumbled forward and just escaped a nose-buck into his back. He slit the membrane of the other wing, drove around and gave the dragon a second chin hook with the shield, his teeth clicking audibly and he hissed angrily.

Duck and dodge, turn and slam, stab and lift shield. With all the scars the dragon had, Sam had actually expected combat experience, but the movements seemed awkward and many blows were completely ineffective. With his wings he tore earth from the walls and ceiling again and again and blinded himself the most, so that Sam pushed him back bit by bit. It was one of those moments when a (good) archer would have been extremely helpful, but giving Isaac a bow was life-threatening, especially if you had him in your back.  
Sam pushed forward, the dragon moved backwards and a protesting “hey!” was heard from the woman, followed by the sound of crashing wood and a shrill scream. Promptly, the dragon turned into an angry offensive and hissed at Sam, who reached out with the sword, knocked a tooth tip off the dragon, and was delighted that this dragon could not spit fire.  
"Go away," the dragon hissed and rushed towards Sam. He ducked away under the claws, dipped under the right wing, turned his wrist and stabbed his sword into the side of the dragon. Since they were both carried by their momentum, the blade slit the dragon's flank almost to the hind leg.  
Probably a _thank you_ to Isaac would be appropriate later, that he always worked the sword devotedly with the grinding stone.  
Roaring the dragon turned around, caught Sam with his snout and stumbled. Sam collided rudely against the wall, groaned, pushed himself off the wall and went over to the final blow. If he had caught the dragon's neck a hand's span closer to his head, he might have beheaded the dragon, but he pulled the sword out of Sam's hand as he fell. Nevertheless, the wound gaped so far apart that Sam was sprayed with arterial blood from top to bottom.  
With a muffled sound the dragon body hit the ground.

One hectic breath, then another. With the third Sam had himself under control again so far that he slowly sucked in the air and expelled it. Under the dragon a pool of blood spread and he looked down on himself disgusted.  
"What a mess," Sam mumbled while in the background Isaac made a relieved sound.  
“Um… Milady?”, he asked cautiously but got no reply.  
“You think she’s okay?”, Isaac wanted to know in a low voice.  
“I hope…” Carefully Sam pushed himself past the dead dragon. There was the end of the hill, with a lantern hanging on a hook from the wall, there were some small shelves, broken pottery and on the ground…  
“Oh, Great Mother!” Sam rushed over to the woman lying in the middle of something that should have been a table but now was nothing more then broken pieces of wood. One big piece had apparently pierced her black-silver corset and stuck between her ribs, blood was running from her lips. Hastily he removed a glove and touched her neck- but there was no pulse anymore.  
“Oh, Great Mother…”, he whispered, quite shocked.  
“Sam? What’s wrong?” Isaac shouted a little nervous.  
“She… she’s dead, Isaac. I mean… she doesn’t look like princess”- did princesses wear shirts and trousers?- “but… but she’s dead…” Sam stumbled nearly over is own tongue.  
“Holy shit!”  
Sam swallowed hard. The young woman was pretty. And pretty dead. “Oh damn…”  
“Didn’t go as expected…” Isaac mumbled muffled and Sam made an agreeing sound.  
“What do we do now?”  
“No clue…”  
“Telling someone?”  
“I said _no clue_ , Isaac.” Sam still stared at her. “I don’t want to look like a coward or an asshole by just leaving her like this, but to who should we tell?”  
“No clue.”, Isaac said simply and Sam sighed.  
“Was a bad idea to come here.”  
“Oh, finally you realize! Great!”  
“Shut up, will you?” Damn dragons. “We go back to Whitehill and in the next village we pass we tell them.”  
“Whitehill? Sounds great. You know, I thought about your lords being happy about you taking a bride from your own country, after already your mother is a foreigner and your sisters married outside-”  
Sam blanked out Isaac's babbling. He felt guilty for the death of this young woman- whoever she was. Probably he would never know.


End file.
